The South Side Tour Guide

by Shelter Somerset

  He eased passed her, and he could sense her eyes following him until he turned the corner for his office.

  A few paces from his door, he hesitated. Save for a crack, the door was closed. When he’d gone to the kitchenette, he remembered having left it wide open. He took a full sip of coffee and stepped inside.

  Christ!

  Charlie Marshall, his boss, sat in the armchair across from his desk. Harden recognized the meaning of his hunched shoulders. Though eleven years in age separated them, they were friends more than employee and employer. Still, once or twice, Charlie had come down hard on Harden, as any boss might. He’d even terminated a few long-term employees, which Harden suspected Charlie wouldn’t have done unless they had it coming.

  Charlie dropped the report he was reading on Harden’s desk and looked up at him. “Good morning, Harden.”

  “Hi there, Charlie.” Harden motioned for him to stay seated and situated himself behind his desk. “What can I do for you this morning?”

  Dumb question. He knew why Charlie was paying a visit. The ethanol issue was coming to a boil. Harden had expected it for some time. With a naïve government and the slew of zealous investment and special interest groups, Charlie had pushed him harder and harder to garner funding for corn distillation.

  “Harden, I’ve been looking over these reports of yours.” Charlie rotated the paperwork so that Harden could read it. “I worry that, with the way you’re presenting this data, you couldn’t give away a free bottled water to a man suffering dehydration. You’re not trying hard enough.”

  Harden swallowed a lump. “These are only the rough drafts, Charlie. I hope to flesh it out.”

  Charlie stretched his neck to stress his stature. Standing six five, with the girth to match, Charlie knew how to use his mass for his own purpose, even when seated. In college, he’d been the linebacker for the Iowa State Cyclones. An all-American. That was in 1985. Now he was a middle-aged man with a business, and, as one of the Maquoketa River Valley’s largest private employers, he lived with a set of his own bills and headaches.

  “It’s for the good of our community here in northeastern Iowa that we get these grants,” he said. “Haven’t we emphasized the importance?”

  Harden nodded. “We have, Charlie. I respect your—”

  Charlie waved him silent. “I know how you feel about ethanol, Harden. You have a right to your views. But I have a business to run. We live in the corn belt. More corn is produced in Iowa than anywhere on earth. Corn is king here. We can’t change the eating habits of Americans and force them to eat more meat, but what corn farmers don’t sell as feed they can distill into ethanol. It’s our future. You’re our chief agronomist. I expect more from you than this.”

  “I’ll work extra hard on it, Charlie,” Harden said, acquiescing to his boss’s demands. “Trust me on that. I will give you what you want. I just need a few more days to tie everything together.”

  “It’s vital enough that Vivian and I came around to your house Sunday morning on the way home from church so that I might speak with you. Vivian wanted to give you a pie she baked, anyway. It was before we heard about Lillian.” He lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Harden willed the blood from pumping into his neck and face. If only his office had a larger window, one that overlooked an expansive cornfield rather than the modest bungalows that abutted the outskirts of Duncan. Scenery to take his mind off his present discomfort.

  “I knocked and no one answered,” Charlie went on when Harden sat mute. “I saw your Jeep and figured you were still home and hadn’t left for church. We saw that strange van of your brother-in-law’s too. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how imperative this is and that I’ve been worried out of my mind about your dawdling.”

  Breath expired from Harden, and his heart quickened. “I understand, Charlie. And I’m sorry I didn’t hear your knocking. I was most likely showering.” With my former brother-in-law! “The kids were with Lance over the weekend.”

  “I assumed something like that.” Charlie checked his wristwatch and stood. “I have a teleconference in ten minutes with some engineers in Georgia. Harden, I’d like to see a thorough report by midweek, one that showcases your training and education. Don’t disappoint me.” He stopped before stepping into the hallway and snapped his fingers. “One more thing. Vivian and I want to remind you to come for our annual Labor Day barbeque Monday.”

  Harden said he wouldn’t miss it, and Charlie added that he could bring his brother-in-law if he was still around. Harden promised he would. Charlie walked away wearing a hearty smile. He always departed on good terms. That was Charlie’s style. And his invitation was sincere too. Harden never knew him to offer for show. A man of his word. That also unnerved Harden.

  He thought again about farming. If only he had someone special to share his life with, he could dump his work and live his dreams.

  Meanwhile, he owed more to himself, his company, and Mason and Olivia than fanciful ambitions. He was the top dog in Marshall’s science and technology department. Charlie had awarded him the promotion last year, in addition to hefty responsibilities.

  Yet, despite his boss’s reprimanding, his mood again perked up. The irritation of writing glowing reports on ethanol (for potential buyers from such diverse places as California and Brazil) suddenly appeared trivial.

  He worked through lunch, and by six he had a partially written research proposal he was sure would meet Charlie’s requirements. He tucked the report inside his desk drawer and hurried for his Jeep. But there was one stop he wanted to make along the way.

  He gripped the steering wheel and shook his head. Why aren’t I feeling weirder about this?

  Good smells and pleasant chatter greeted Harden when he stepped inside the house thirty minutes later. But then it hit him again, almost the moment he’d crossed the threshold. He glanced at the plastic bag that contained his purchases and almost laughed aloud.

  After eating, he and Andy played several rounds of Pictionary with the kids. Then they tucked them into bed and returned downstairs to hand wash the larger pots and pans from Kamila’s buffet-style dinner.

  “You got home a little later today,” Andy said, drying once Harden washed.

  “I had a big report that needed finishing, and then I stopped off at the store.”

  “I thought maybe you were avoiding coming home.”

  Harden dunked a pot in and out of the water until the soap rinsed clear and set it in the drying rack for Andy. “Complete opposite.”

  He was glad Andy didn’t respond and continued to dry. He wasn’t in the mood to analyze their weekend together while the kids were at home. Wasn’t Andy the one who’d suggested they not discuss it? Instead, Harden asked him, “Things go okay between you and Kamila today?”

  “She’s not so bad once you break down her iron curtain.”

  “I figure most Europeans are like that,” Harden said. “She can be a good friend once she gets to know and understand you.”

  Harden washed the last pot and unplugged the sink. The gurgle of water filled Harden’s ears until Andy said, “What do you think we should do about tonight?”

  Drying his hands, Harden replied, “You mean about the sleeping arrangements? I’m unsure. At work, everything seemed simple. I couldn’t wait to get home. I still feel that way, but I’m unsure.”

  “You worry about the kids?”

  Harden shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should move, change our address.”

  “That’s a bit extreme.”

  “I’m thinking more about Lilly and her threat to come back.” Yet Harden understood, in Iowa, her gaining custody of the kids was unlikely. Courts wouldn’t side with a drug addict over…. He didn’t dare think it. A same-sex couple? Or were they nothing more than two old friends who shared a few intimate moments?

  “Lilly’s gone and won’t be back for some time,” Andy said. “You said she last turned up at Christmas. That was more than eight months ago.
Maybe she won’t bother you and the kids for another year. Try not to think about her.”

  Harden sighed. Puzzled, he looked into the backyard. The shadowy swing set stood empty under the sapphire sky, the two seats barely moving in the mild breeze.

  Fatigue overwhelmed his muscles and bones. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight,” he said, dropping the towel and moving for the stairs, knowing full well Andy’s eyes burned into his back.

  He stopped with his hand curled over the newel post and eyed Andy, still standing at the sink. Andy returned his smile. He laid aside the damp dish towel, stored the last pot, and together they climbed the stairs to Harden’s bedroom.

  Locked behind the door, Harden revealed his main purchase. Like a mischievous child, he drew it out from the plastic bag and dangled it before Andy’s eyes.

  Andy took the tube of KY from him and snickered. “Weren’t you embarrassed?”

  “That’s why I bought a handful of other things I didn’t need for camouflage.” He pulled them out, one by one. “A tube of toothpaste, deodorant, contact lens cleaner, although I don’t wear them, and a bag of gorp. If you get hungry, help yourself.”

  Andy smacked the tube of KY on his palm. “Guess we’ll be working up another appetite tonight.”

  Harden did what he’d been yearning for the entire day. He wrapped his arms around Andy and held him tight to his chest. They slowly undressed each other while glazing their lips with lazy, wet kisses. They tumbled to the bed, and Harden explored more of Andy’s body, fixating on his firm butt muscles. He was fascinated by the smooth mounds. He massaged each side, his fingers meandering around the marble-like curves and crevices.

  Needing more of him, he pulled Andy from the bed, stood him up, palms flat against the wall that faced the cornfield, away from the hallway so Mason and Olivia would not hear, and knelt behind him. With soft lips, Harden kissed his butt cheeks and rubbed his face against the tight skin. He had never dreamed, never fantasized, about doing what he longed to do now—even to a woman. But he needed to. Desired nothing else.

  As if venturing into a forbidden garden, Harden spread Andy. He stared, transfixed that the first word to come to his mind might be “beautiful.” Still more redolent and cleaner than he’d guessed for a man. Powerless over what came next, he teased Andy with his tongue. Andy flinched forward. Harden pulled him back and licked him again. Andy began to thrust back farther, enticing Harden to take more. Harden dared to drive his tongue deeper.

  He ravaged the smooth, perfect orifice that burned his prodding tongue. Andy clawed at the wall, released low moans. Harden nibbled more fiercely. Andy’s fidgets intensified, and he tapped his forehead against the wall. So virile, yet so vulnerable. And there was something magnificent about it. Such utter intimacy.

  Harden got to his feet, leaving a wet trace along Andy’s back, and pressed hard against him. He teased him with the head of his sex, delighting in the wetness he’d left behind inside Andy and how Andy squirmed and begged for more. Harden lubricated himself with a healthy glob of the newly purchased KY and penetrated him.

  Each thrust, each subdued groan convinced Harden he harbored no regrets about having sex with his former brother-in-law. He wanted Andy to submit to him. To yield control to him. He pushed and drove, their bodies quivering. Harden grabbed Andy’s shoulders, clutched his waist, and forced his entire body as close to him as he could. Drove into the very mouthwatering mound that he had worshipped with his tongue.

  Andy reached around for Harden’s glutes, and the sensation of hot hands on him sent thrills through his body. He nearly laughed into Andy’s ears, never letting up on his pounding.

  He stopped, breathed, moved Andy to the bed—the exact spot where Andy had first come to him Saturday night—and positioned him faceup with his legs spread. Holding Andy steady by his solid calves, he entered him. Toes digging into the carpet, he relished the entire warm tightness of him. He tossed his head back, thrusting back and forth, and fell closer onto him and nibbled at Andy’s chin. In minutes, Andy again came without stroking himself, an amazing sight that stirred Harden with a sense of his own masculinity, perhaps beyond what he’d ever felt with a woman, and drove him to swell Andy with powerful thrusts. Drunk with ecstasy, his knees buckled and he lay down upon him.

  They breathed heavily. Soon they rose and showered. Back in bed, Harden’s mind roiled. He had never experienced such draining, yet invigorating, lovemaking. He eyed the towel stuffed under the door. It had already become a habit for Andy to place it there. How wrong was it to go about the charade, covering what they were doing?

  Olivia’s juvenile five-act play had proved true. She’d written innocently that her father and uncle shared a bed. And here they were, side by side under the bedcovers. Writers possessed an uncanny ability to foresee the future, Harden mused. Or maybe children could see what adults were too preoccupied to notice.

  Odd tapping on the roof startled Andy.

  “What’s that?” he whispered, glancing toward the ceiling.

  “Acorns falling off the oak trees onto the roof. The squirrels will clean it up. That time of year again, thank goodness. School starts next week.”

  “They’re excited about it,” Andy said, relaxing under the covers. “I sure didn’t look forward to the end of summer when I was a kid.”

  “I hate to admit,” Harden said, “since being a single parent, I can’t wait for the start of the school year. So much is lifted off my shoulders.”

  “They’re kids for only a few years. Enjoy them while you can.”

  “Can’t believe how fast they grow,” Harden said. “Time flies the older you get, that’s for sure.”

  “Just think, in the same amount of time Mason and Olivia reached their current ages, Olivia will be eighteen, about to start college, and Mason will be twenty-two and already graduated.”

  Harden clutched the bedcovers and pulled them down to his gut. “Christ, did you have to put it like that? I feel old as it is, and I’m only thirty-seven.”

  “You’ll still be young by then. Forty-eight isn’t old. They say the forties are the new twenties.”

  “Not exactly a tribute to our generation.”

  “Maybe it’s about our appearance and not emotional development.”

  Harden traced his thumb over Andy’s dimpled chin. “I’m sure you’ll look pretty good in ten years.”

  Andy held Harden’s hand steady and brought it to his chest. “I didn’t come to Iowa for this, you know,” he uttered. “I never intended to seduce you and cause you and the kids more heartache than you’ve already suffered.”

  He absorbed Andy’s dark-blue eyes. “You haven’t caused us any suffering,” he said. “It’s been wonderful with you here. I’m glad how things have turned out.”

  In an odd way, the moment he’d first read Andy’s text message asking to visit, Harden had wondered if something might happen between him and his gay ex-brother-in-law. He couldn’t really pinpoint what. Love? Affection? Sex? Domestic tranquility? But he’d sensed it.

  Yes, Andy had spoken the truth when he’d said they both had foreseen their weekend. Maybe from the start he’d sent Andy signals. The same ones that Olivia had detected. Maybe he, and not Andy, had ignited their fervor Saturday night. Had Harden, in some way, gone to his bedroom that night, wanting Andy to follow?

  He shushed Andy from saying more, fingers brushing his lips. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You have no reason to blame yourself for anything. Now stop worrying.”

  Andy lowered himself further under the covers and stared at the ceiling, mute and still. Harden switched off the light, and at some point during the night they fell asleep. Before dawn, Harden awoke and, through the half-open curtain, watched the rich twilight spread blue across the western sky.

  He peered at Andy, barely noticing the portrait of Lilly and Harden that sat in shadows on the bureau. The subdued light cast a serene and stunning glow over Andy. Innocent looking, yet his breathing lifted the bedcovers with pote
ncy.

  Inch by inch, he unrolled the bedcovers, exposing Andy’s partial arousal. Andy opened his eyes, smiled through the emerging dawn. Harden sensed Andy surrender to his will when he laid a gentle hand on his smooth chest, warm to the touch.

  He wanted to bury their fears, to wield a power not only over Andy, but the both of them. “You belong to me,” he whispered. “We’ve crossed a threshold. I’ll take you whenever I want.”

  Andy grew fully engorged, and Harden detected a slight ripple of muscles under his taut flesh. Lubed with KY, Harden slowly climbed on top of Andy and wedged his legs apart. He marked his words by again entering him, ensuring Andy did not experience pain by gauging his expression, yet showing no hesitation.

  They made their first quiet, gentle love. Slow, decisive. Sandwiched together. He filled Andy, and afterward they catnapped, sticky and breathing lightly, until the pink dawn brushed the tops of the corn.

  “I better hop in the shower before the kids wake up,” he whispered to Andy.

  He removed Andy’s arm from his chest and got to his feet. Just then, he heard Olivia’s footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later, the toilet flushed. Next came the creak of the middle step. She was heading downstairs.

  Andy sat against the headboard, pulled his knees to his chin, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Harden slipped on his underwear and sweatpants, watching Andy yank the light hairs on his toe knuckles.

  The first habit that annoyed him.

  He wanted to chuckle but pursed his lips and said under his breath, “I’ll go see about Olivia first. Wait a couple of minutes before coming down. You can say you had woken up early and had gone upstairs to look for something. They’re kids. They won’t require details unless it’s about something you don’t know anything about. See you in a few.”

  He toed aside the draft-snake towel, eased open the door, and, once safely reaching the stairwell, skulked downstairs, hoping Mason wouldn’t stir from sleep until Andy made his way down.

  Chapter 25

  THE week passed much the same. Each night after tucking in the kids, there was the longing, the loving, followed by the sneaking downstairs. The dizzying reality of Harden and Andy’s newfangled bond augmented Andy’s confusion. In painful ways, Harden and Andy came from different worlds. Other than the children, they had little in common. They didn’t even share the same hopes for the future. Andy wanted to cash in on the rot—like vultures on a carcass—while Harden, seeking a higher existence, kicked and screamed against it.